Halo: Dust and Echoes
Prologue UNSC Adamant Resolve, UNSC Prowler Corps | Deep Space Reconnaissance (Segmenti Orios System) January 17th, 2596 The Prowler exited slipspace, radiation filling the space around before dissipating. In the bridge, the Captain and Naval Officers sat rigidly in their chairs. "Status Report" "Systems functioning to full capacity. Mine payload is full. Pulse turret charges at 100%" "Location?" "As plotted, sir; Segmenti Orios System." The Captain let off a sigh, held in since the jump. He eased in his chair, relaxing his previously tensed muscles. "Sir, large object coming up on the external sensors..." The Captain's heart skipped a beat. He ground his teeth together; his palms began to sweat. The ship wasn't built for combat. "How large?" "5.7 Kilometres across. Displaying view on the screen now, sir" The Naval Ensign flipped a set of complicated dials and switches on the control panel of the Prowler, and immediately a video feed of the object came through on the large screen in front of the Captain's chair. The Captain's eyes widened. His jaw turned slack in disbelief. His grip on the arms of the command chair tightened. "Mother of God..." They'd found one. ---- UNSC Long and Dark December, UNSC Navy Frigate, ONI Command | Investigating Distress Beacon (Segmenti Orios System) February 1st, 2596 (Present) The familiar aftertaste of mucus and lime filled Jared's senses as the hatch to his cryopod eased open, hissing as the hydraulics decompressed. The tingle of the warm air against his still-cool skin made his nerves come alive, and he opened his eyes to the dimness of the cryogenics bay deep inside the December's belly. Around him, other cryopods were releasing their sleepers to roam uncertainly about the chamber, stretching their legs after the long trip through space. He felt the last tug of the cryogenic-fluid injector as it pulled out from his bloodstream, and he gingerly pushed himself out of the pod with his elbows. The deck was, to his surprise, made of soft-to-the-touch foam, material that gave way slightly as he put first one foot and then the other down. It must be a new feature in these new Heimdall-class Frigates the Navy had the ship manufacturers cranking out these days. He was glad of it; finally, a design that put some thought into the well-being of the average soldier. Taking a few steps forward, he leaned backwards and stretched out his lats and his arms, popping some vertebrae in the process. Oh, that never lost its good feeling, he thought, smiling inwardly. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed one of the females eying him, then turning and whispering something to her friend with a snicker. He caught a flicker of the conversation with his enhanced sense of hearing. "...makes sense, honestly. I mean look at how tall he is! You should have expected as much!" "I just didn't think the rumors were true-- Shh! I think he heard us!" He flushed as it dawned on him what they were talking about, and made his way to the secure locker room with a pace that resembled something between walking and sprinting. Some people never changed, did they? He'd expected that a lifetime of deployments and their mandatory cryo-freeze regulations would have instilled a sense of maturity into the majority of the services. Apparently, he was wrong. Finding his bio-sealed locker, he placed his palm on the scanner and allowed the machine time to process. Lifting the handle, he opened the heavy door and looked inside. There it was, glowing faintly blue in the anti-microbial lights of the storage chamber, its' titano-ceramic solidity imposing and familiar in the same glance. The same weathered lines, the same battle scars that he remembered from his fifty years of using it... His MJOLNIR Mark VI. It had aged just as well as he had, which was to say it appeared ageless. He reached up and adjusted the blue-visored helmet on its stand, straightening it out, then reached for his undersuit. It was a deployment, after all. No sense in getting dressed up for nothing, he thought as he pushed aside his space-black ONI class-A uniform. He glanced at himself before donning the comfortable outer shell. Aside from a few scars and some growing wrinkles near the corner of his eyes, he looked like he was thirty-five and kicking it. Ironic that he was coming up on his eighty-fifth. He grinned. Who wasn't so well-preserved these days? You spend so much time in the freezers, you're not going to change much. And with his SPARTAN enhancements, he got an even more positive side. Rumor had it that the pharmaceuticals, with some newly-released Forerunner tech as help, had a new regenerative process coming out, and he made a note to ask Lauryn about it when he got to see her next. The second skin fit snugly, as it always did, and the armor clamped on within a couple of seconds. He tucked his helmet underneath his arm, and walked back into the bay, where he found that most of the thawed personnel had followed his lead. ODSTs and Rangers checked and double-checked their equipment, adjusting helmet electronics, and looking over their buddies' load-out. Within a few minutes, they had finished their pre-launch checks, and had filed their way down to the transport and HOPE pod storage bays, visors updating with mission objectives, pertinent data, and other necessary information. The ship's CO appeared in a small chat window in the top right corner of Jared's Heads-Up Display, with a small icon noting that the Spartan was not sending any video feed back. "ORPHEUS, is it? This is Captain Verkarian. I believe we've met before. Since you are the agent in charge of this operation, I am filling you in with the necessary details about this operation. ONI brass may have already explained the situation to you, but we are in this area looking for a missing ship, the Adamant Resolve, who went dark over two weeks ago. We recently received a distress signal tracking back to this area, and it is very likely that the prowler went down around this area. It is imperative that you secure the ship's black box and transfer its contents back to the December for analysis. ONI also would like you to secure the immediate area so that we can send in a small team of Acumen researchers to recover a small amount of technology from the facility. ONI is not sure why the Prowler went dark, but they are almost positive that it was under hostile circumstances. I have informed the ODST and Ranger team leaders of some of the base details, but I want to let you know that ONI, and myself, are suspecting that this is an Insurrectionist-related attack. Respond to any threats accordingly. Captain Verkarian out." The video window winked closed, and with a few steps forward, Jared hefted himself into the HOPE pod alongside an ODST sergeant and a female Lieutenant, both from the 10th Shock Battalion if their color markings and unit flashes were to be believed. "Wolf" and "Lydecker" were combat veterans, their kills displayed in blue hash-marks along their forearm plates, their drop records in red stars on their pauldrons. Three drops each. Obviously they had been in for the same amount of time. He nodded at them in a friendly way as the hatch of his pod sealed shut. Ironic, he thought, in one pod five minutes after getting out of another. He secured the straps and palmed both control sticks. This was it. ---- UNSC Long and Dark December, UNSC Navy Frigate, ONI Command | Insertion (Orbit Above Forerunner Facility) February 1st, 2596 The Pelican's engines let out a dull drone as it disembarked with the others from the hangar bay. O246 painted in white on its sides, a small image of a grinning shark adorning the left. Inside, Captain Stanislav Skorozy sat in his chair, his eyes closed, lost in thought. A myriad of blues, greys, and reds flitted about across his visor display; tactical maps, life signs, ammunition read outs. "E.T.A. 4 minutes" In the seats opposite and adjacent him, his fellow Rangers polarized their visors; jarred by the noise, he followed suit. He stood, slipping a new magazine from his harness into his MA5, and gripped one of the ceiling handles as the Pelican began to ease down onto the surface. The rear door opened, and the Rangers deployed. Captain Skorozy sighed, and pressed his index and middle finger against COM button on his helmet. "First Platoons have made landfall; repeat; Pelicans have touched down." Skorozy brought up his MA5, and motioned to the Platoon Leaders; they moved forward with their men. The ONI team set to work with their Spoofer, and the huge gates slid open smoothly; vast Forerunner lockwork moved apart and slid away, revealing the massive Forerunner architecture within. It was still a vacuum, however. No breathable oxygen; not quite typical of Forerunner structures. The Army Rangers moved in, scanning the blackness with helmet-mounted flashlights, securing the large chamber. A huge light shined on them from above. The Rangers opened fire. "IDENTIFIED TO SERVICES AS //SET// #RECLAIMERS //PROX//. REMOVAL FROM LOCAL TARGETING LEDGER MANDATED BY PROTOCOL A4325B72." A massive mechanical eye, searchlight dominating the centre, gazed at them from above; the powerful light swept over both Platoons; 64 men in Semi-Powered Armour. The strictly mechanical, monotonous voice boomed overhead once more. "WELCOMING RECLAIMERS TO //ARCH.// ||= 1 0 0 |) //SP.ERR.// RESEARCH CENTRE DESIG: A42B-6" Stanislav disregarded the likely-rampant A.I. and walked over to the acting Lieutenants; "Base of operations will be at this location; it'll be marked on the tactical maps for your men. Now, I want an even deployment through the corridors there, there, and there: have your men scour every inch of this place. We're not leaving without the crew." The Platoon Leaders nodded silently, and returned to their units; the Rangers dispersed, and Captain Skorozy looked up at the massive eye-like machine, still sweeping the room with its searchlight. It was familiar. Movement One Unidentified Forerunner Structure, Airlock Antechamber | Completing Combat Deployment Drop (Segmenti Orios System) February 1st, 2596 "I'm getting weak atmospheric readings from the haze surrounding the structure; analysis reads that it's a fabricated version of our own breathable air. We should be able to land our pods on the ventral side and infiltrate into the station's interior." Juliet piped out her report over the ODST/ONI frequency, using the external sensors on the HOPE to judge distance and feed her data. She absolutely loved the new wireless capabilities that had come with Jared's neural upgrade, and made use of them as often as possible. "Got it," the SPARTAN responded. "Wolf, what do you think? You and your men got enough juice for a midships insertion?" He tapped the steering joysticks forward, adjusting the angle of approach and slowing his rapid acceleration. The ODST Lieutenant's helmet popped up on his left display screen, her visor depolarizing so she could make eye contact. Unusual, Jared thought. Most ODSTs like the anonymity of their personal "head buckets" around strangers. She had striking brown eyes, with an intense drive barely contained within them that seemed fitting of a female officer in the Shock Troops. "We're good. But is your AI sure that there's atmosphere there, sir? We're not in our vac-capable suits, and I don't want to risk it if she's not absolutely sure." Her eyes flipped to one of her other display screens, and she nodded. "My Troopers feel the same way. More or less." "I'' am ''sure," Juliet responded, somewhat annoyed. "Here. I'll send you the specifics." A stream of data superseded the information on the right panel as the AI beamed the files to Wolf's pod-comp. "Well, it does look like you're right..." Wolf began, but Jared cut her off. "I'll go first. My armor is vacuum tight. Let you know if it's safe." He tapped the thrusters again, burning the chemical propellant as he scouted for a suitably flat LZ. Settling on a spot, he eased the pod down to the familiar metal-stone conglomerate that the Forerunners used to construct their buildings. With a soft metallic clang, followed by a heavy thunk, the HOPE kissed the framework of the station and deployed magnetic crampons, attaching it firmly to the surface. Jared smacked the quick-release button on his harness and tapped the appropriate button on his control panel. The door, which was normally blasted away by explosive bolts, slid open with a soft hiss. A hiss. There was atmosphere. He double-tapped his mike, letting the ODSTs behind him know that they were green to insert. In snappy order, they made their own touch-downs and disembarked their own HOPE pods. Soon, the entire forty man company was prowling the landing zone, looking for an appropriate entrance. It was not long before they found one, a garage-like projection that rose out of the smooth surface like many of the other geometrical rises. A barely noticeable blue-tinged force field shimmered across the entrance of the tunnel, which stretched down into the bowels of the installation. Lights flickered along the passage, dying photocells that illuminated the passage in sporadic flashes of amber and blue. Hesitantly, the company made their way down the tunnel, entering a large antechamber that glowed with a faint golden tinge caused by the veins of yellow energy that cycled slowly along the walls and around the ceilings. As the last of the troopers entered the cavernous room, a heavy hatch covering what appeared to be a duct rasped slowly open. Weapons snapped to shoulders, safeties released, and the rifles of the entire group methodically searched the room for targets. As a small silver sphere emerged from the duct, Jared raised an armored fist to prevent the Troopers from firing. "Hold on. Seen one of these things before." The tiny construct darted towards the SPARTAN, slowing gently to a smooth stop two feet in front of his face. A bright shaft of light shot from a tiny emitter embedded somewhere within the sphere's interior, and swept over the figures in the room. A slight chirp, and the mysterious automaton disappeared back into the duct work, the hatch closing shut solidly behind it. The large doors at the end of the corridor opened up, grinding their age-worn gears as they retracted. A horrible smell wafted into the chamber, permeating throughout and strong enough to be smelled through Jared's partially-active air scrubbers. Ugh, why was it so familiar? "Further up and further in," Wolf mumbled to herself, shifting her pack and trudging forward. As her team followed her, lights snapped on weakly along the passageway, illuminating an elaborate series of intricate carvings on the walls. Lydecker chuckled to himself as he passed them. "Science types would just crap themselves to get at these things," he said, running an absent-minded finger along the edge of one of the discolored murals. "Hey, what the hell is this?" On his hand was a dry crusting of some greenish substance. One of the squad members, "Cpl. Crenshaw, Benjamin K." as the Neural Net implant labeled him, ambled over to take a look. "Oh my, Gunny, it looks like you found some new form of space mold! What a most interesting discovery you have there. I just have one question. What can we name it?" "Shut up, Yahtzee," growled another member of the team, "Cpl. Kovách, Ambrus T." "It looks like blood, Gunny. But not like any blood I've ever seen before." "We'll leave it to the brain children," Wolf said with finality, "We've got something else that's more important to deal with. Let's move, boys and girls." Together they paced deeper into the derelict, deeper towards whatever awaited them. And why couldn't Jared shake the feeling that he had seen this all before, done these same things once? It was an all too familiar sinking in his stomach. "You feel it too?" Juliet asked, over his internal mic. "I just pray it's not what we're thinking." ---- Unidentified Forerunner Structure, Service Corridors | Conducting Search and Rescue Operation (Segmenti Orios System) February 1st, 2596 : 2 Hours After Insertion They’d been walking around the endless tunnels for hours, following wherever the erratic distress signals lead them. Sergeant Horne took point, with the seven other Army Rangers covering the rear and sides; each tunnel was connected to countless other tunnels, making them all paranoid. They’d each seen enough combat to desire at least a bit of cover... Not helping with the situation was the fact that the corridors themselves were pitch black, and easily large enough to fit 30 men across; even with Night vision modes enabled on their visors, it was nigh-impossible to see any further than several meters ahead. What honestly worried Corporal Silik, though, were the lights... they persistently flickered on and off, erratically offering illumination and taking it away. Silik had seen his fair share of Forerunner structures; near perfect working order, pristine conditions. The fact that the lights were like this, and that he saw what he thought was rust and mold on the walls disturbed him greatly. Silik kept in pace with the rest of the squad, occasionally glancing to the various side corridors. He could swear he saw shadows moving in the darkened tunnels... man-sized silhouettes limping back and forth. “Hold up. I think I’ve got something…” Sergeant Horne stopped the squad, pressing his two fingers to the side of his helmet. “Got a signal on the band. Sounds like the distress call the swabbies put out.” Suddenly they heard gunfire. Easily three minutes’ worth of it, erratic and seemingly… panicked. All of it was only amplified by the shape of the corridors, making it seem like it could have come from any of the adjacent passageways. The Rangers were all crouching, aiming their weapons down the long tunnels, looking for an enemy that could be anywhere. Sergeant Horne looked around, his helmet mounted flashlight sweeping over the squad under his command. “Where the hell is Silik?” The rest of the Rangers got up, searching, and they finally found a set of dog tags lying in a bloody mess. Corporal Silik lay slumped against the wall utterly disemboweled, with his intestines spilling out onto the floor. His Semi-Powered Armour, which should have protected from more than fifty 7.62 millimetre rounds, was shorn to pieces, skin torn all across his body, helmet visor cracked and splattered with crimson blood. “Jesus fucking christ…” The murmuring continued, and Sergeant Horne finally shushed them, ripping the dog tags from a torn out throat that gave way under the pressure, sending the remnants of his head and helmet tumbling to the dark metal floor. "Saddle up, men... we're... we're staying on course." The Army Rangers continued down the primary corridor, aiming their rifles up and down empty tunnels, abandoned junctions. The tunnels suddenly seemed so much smaller, so much longer, to them; endless pathways unto which only uncertainty and possible death lay ahead. More gunfire. The shuffling of combat boots against rusted metal. A grenade explosion. The sounds echoed, carried throughout the endless tunnel-work; what could easily have been a kilometre away seemed so much like it was only in the next hall over. The Rangers, however, despite paranoia and growing claustrophobia, continued their slow forward march; rifles, sub-machine guns, shotguns aimed at all directions, moving slowly and deliberately. The Ranger Sergeant angled his helmeted head downward, pressing his right index and middle finger to the side of his helmet. Several seconds passed in silence, before he slowly lowered his gauntleted hand back to his rifle. Sergeant Horne cursed silently and crashed his armoured boot down onto the floor. The thump echoed through the empty halls. "The... the signal's gone. Keep formation, continue moving forward. I'll take point," The Ranger Sergeant desperately lead his men forward, toward what he assumed was the origin of the distress signals. They were inexhorably lost in a network of old alien tunnelry, a labyrinth, along with whatever had killed Corporal Silik... mauled, more appropriately. They were all on edge as they moved toward their uncertain future, and at times, Horne thought he could see shadows moving through the empty side passages... man-sized silhouettes limping up and down the old halls, Silik's corpse following close behind. Logs